


in another

by valerian



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universes, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fate & Destiny, spoilers obviously, this is moody and sad and reflective of my feelings on this gorgeous film
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-11-08 17:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11086818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valerian/pseuds/valerian
Summary: He wishes they had more lifetimes together.





	in another

 

 

In another life, she’s mortal, maybe, and they meet serendipitously—in a bookshop, reaching for the same novel….or at a play, brushing arms as one or the other takes their seat.

Or maybe they meet at an afternoon soiree—a garden party hosted by one of the oldest and wealthiest families in England by Duke So-and-So and Duchess Such-and-Such, and Steve’s just an All American Boy, above average to be sure, but he doesn’t fit into this gathering as much as he’d like, and she doesn’t fit either because she _towers_ over the English roses and doesn’t have it in her to be a wallflower. To shrink within herself.

And so she stands out, an Amazonian princess, a goddess, frightening gentlemen and ladies alike with such a great and terrifying beauty, such a beaming, unabashed smile.

And Steve is intimidated too. Like, yeah, of course he’s intimidated, but she’s the flame and he’s the super uninteresting and plain and boring moth and shit, Steve, _no, don’t be an idiot, no, what are you doing, walking toward her, closer, making a horrible first approach—_

She finds him interesting though, to his great surprise. She finds him handsome too, which she expresses not too long into their walk down a stony pathway, the one that leads from the garden to a beautiful lake, where they can talk in private.

And talk they do.

They talk and talk and laugh and talk and laugh some more, and wow, holy shit _wow_. Is Diana Prince not the girl Steve’s been dreaming of his whole life?

And because she _is_ , of _course she is,_ he falls pretty hard and prettttty fast, he must admit, and halfway through proposing—proposing that he call upon her next week, not _actually proposing_ (though now that he thinks about it…would she, could she—nah, no, that’s crazy!)—she drops the bomb.

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Such compassion in her eyes. Such a reluctance to let him down, to drop him from a great height, to shatter his fragile, human heart.

“I’m going away.”

“Away?” He tilts his head to the side. “To where?”

“Tunisia.”

“…Why?”

“My father is starting an excavation there.”

“For what?”

“What else?” A wistful smile. “Treasure.”

“I could…go with you?” He’s spitballing here, really racking his brain for a way _not to lose this girl,_ but she just laughs.

“That wouldn’t be wise, Steve. We’ve only known each other for a couple of hours. And you could find someone so easily.”

But Steve Trevor doesn’t want to find just _someone_.

He wants this one. This one before him right here, right now—though he decides not to tell her because it’s too soon to say something like that. Too weird.

And so little Miss Treasure Hunter departs from Steve’s life, and though there are promises of letters and an unspoken “well, maybe if you did end up waiting for me, I’ll wait for you,” it doesn’t matter in the end.

Because she catches yellow fever two months into her trip, and then the world loses her.

A flame extinguished too damn soon, and Steve is left wondering _why?_

If only…

 

 

 

So. Okay. Maybe in another life then, one in which she’s mortal _again_ —and perfect as ever, and it’s later in the timeline of humanity.

The 1980s. Yes. The 1980s, and they’re in the freakin’ U. S. Of A, baby, where dreams can be chased and can be grabbed and can be made _real._

He works in an office this go around, and though everyone around him is coked the fuck up, Steve keeps it real. He keeps it sane, and while he may not have the advantage of thinking as fast as his fellow litigators, he can definitely hold his own. And, like, be appealing to women who want a well-adjusted but still (an on his way to being) wealthy man (a WASP, as it were, but slightly less obnoxious).

And Diana Prince—

She can go toe to toe with the best of them. Only…she works at a rival firm, and she is _wayyyyy_ out of his league, and the first time they meet each other (on the opposite sides of a conference table), it’s clear to Steve that while she may be the woman of his dreams, he most definitely is not the man of hers.

She’s just so confident and unafraid of throwing her words around. And then there’s also the fact that she radiates beauty and elegance so magnificently. Like all the light streaming through the window seems interested in illuminating her face and her face only.

Gorgeous.

And, as mentioned earlier: completely out of his league. 

That is until later that night, when they bump into each other at a bar not too far from both their buildings, actually, a bar with dim lighting and vintage stools and a bartender that’s both seen and heard it all.

Steve is sitting and popping peanuts into his mouth, when she asks, ever so smoothly:

“May I join you?”

He stutters something like a “Yeah, yeah, sure,” and from there, sparks fly.

Like. _Fly._

We’re talking banter and intense eye contact and flirty touches here and there and even _giggling_. From Steve.

And so the evening ends quite excellently, in the back of a cab, the two of them making out like their very existences _depended_ on it, and throw in some hot and heavy petting (his throbbing cock, her panties soaked through), and _man oh man_ , is Steve’s life awesome or what??

She undoes his fly and sneaks a hand underneath his boxers to fuckin’ _jerk him off,_ her smile so charming and open all the while. And Steve’s really got nothing to do other than sit back and try not to cum too quickly—though he’s kind of annoyed that the cabby is trying to watch, trying to sneak looks in the rear-view mirror, one or two or seventeen, and so Steve barks at the driver to “keep your eyes on the road, buddy!” but…he doesn’t.

Buddy doesn’t keep his eyes on the road.

And so this is the messy way he loses Diana in this life—it’s awkward and brutal, a beautiful woman with her hand down his pants and an oncoming truck just _crushing_ the side of the cab she’s sitting on.

Yikes.

 

 

 

So in another life, they meet at a theme park or something…a place that at least _pretends_ to be innocent and full of joy—like Disneyland.

They meet at Disneyland in 2002, and it’s as serendipitous an experience as ever.

Steve’s reaching for the last Mickey Mouse-shaped ice cream bar, and she’s standing behind him, letting out a tiny groan when she realizes that there are no more.

He turns around to apologize or something and hoooooooly _fuck_ , “Here. Take mine!”

“Oh, no, I could never.”

“No, I insist.”

A dimpled, sly smile. “Are you sure?”

He nods really, really fast. The girls behind this angel-woman start to giggle, and he can’t tell if he’s blushing or if it’s just his oncoming sunburn when she reaches for the ice cream, her fingers grazing his lightly, and his heart soaring to a 1,000 beats per minute.

“I’m—I’m Steve, Steve Trevor,” he says, his gaze darting between both her ring fingers.

Bare. Phew!

“I’m Diana. Diana Prince.”

They walk away from the vendor, the two of them, Diana biting into Mickey’s right ear and Steve subtly trying to sniff out whether his pits are gross and thank God, nope, they’re not.

“It’s my first time in California,” she says. “First time at Disneyland, too.”

“I’ve been here a couple of times,” he says, all cool-like. “So…I could show you around, if you—if you want—“

“Sure!” She grins at him for a radiant second, before darting her tongue out to lick some remnant chocolate from her bottom lip, and Steve feels like it’s really, really hot, and he’s going to pass out.

But he forces himself to hold it together so that he can spend some conscious and quality time around this woman.

This woman who turns out to be more than just a perfectly symmetrical face and a sculpted athlete’s body.

This woman is intelligent and multilingual; she’s a translator for the Argentinian embassy, in fact, though she’s been posted in China and in Afghanistan before.

“Before the war, of course,” she says. “Though who knows.I may go back. They need translators more than ever on the ground. For the locals’ protection.”

Steve understands that on a theoretical level. But on an emotional level, he pleads, “I can’t let you do that.”

She laughs, and it’s full-bellied. Slightly incredulous. “And why is that?”

“I want—I want—“ He swallows his pride and spits out what he’s been _dying_ to say for the past two hours,

“I want you to be my girlfriend.”

A clucking of her tongue. “But you hardly know me, Steve.”

“I want to get to know you.”

“Don’t joke.” A disbelieving smile. “I don’t make life decisions based on the opinions of strangers.”

“I’m serious.” He wants to grab her, to shake her, to tell her _WE’RE DESTINED!!!!_ but he can’t ‘cuz that’s super weird and creepy and uncomfortable, so he says, “I think…we have—good chemistry.”

She laughs at that, and because even _she_ can’t deny such an Apparent Thing, she says, “Fine. Fine!”

And so they get to know each other. They _let themselves_ get to know each other, in such a way that takes them through one and half years of just _time_ spent _together._

He quits his production crew job to move where she moves, to go where she goes, ’til death do they part, almost, because he proposes to her the very night before an air strike targets the Afghan embassy and shrapnel pierces her chest and blood floods her lungs and fuck, fuck, _no, fuck, this can’t be, not in every single lifetime in which they meet and they were so close this time, too, they were so goddamn close to making it to marriage and children and Mother’s day and breakfasts and over-expensive vacations and growing old and gray and looking back on their lifetime while sitting in rocking chairs on a front porch—_

 

 

 

So maybe it’s for the best that she is immortal in this life, and _he_ is the one to die.

It’s only right that she fulfill her true destiny, her fate.

And he his.

Because if he gets to go first, then…well.

He’ll never have to be alone, left wondering _why?_

If only.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in love with this couple, so flawlessly portrayed in the film. #allhailpattyjenkins
> 
> I also threw together a playlist for these two [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/eevahnya/playlist/6ETyr05la29E78jH6m4wIi). Still working to update it though. Thanks for reading. :)


End file.
